


Sergeant Erso's Lonely Hearts Club Band

by FrostyEmma



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awkward Romance, F/M, Female Friendship, Fix-It, Jyn runs away from her feelings, M/M, Married Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Not sure how that happened, Space Husbands, bread and wine, so much bread and wine, there is a lot of bread eating and wine drinking in this story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9451265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostyEmma/pseuds/FrostyEmma
Summary: In which not dying turns out to be the easiest part.Or how Jyn lives to tell the tale and becomes drinking buddies with Princess Leia (formerly of Alderaan), Baze and Chirrut celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary, Bodhi thirsts after a certain Tatooine farm boy, and Cassian learns what it means to have hope.





	1. Miracle Rebels

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so a month later, this movie is still torturing me. It was a good movie, and I commend them for committing fully to the premise and killing the entire cast.
> 
> That being said, clearly I refuse to accept the death of the entire cast, because THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY OMG.
> 
> So here it is. A story where they get to be happy. And drink wine.

Jyn awoke to the sound of waves lapping gently at the shore.

There was sand in her mouth. In her hair. Caked over every part of her. With aching hands, she rubbed sand from her eyes, from her nose. She spat it out, her tongue parched, her skin scorched and hot and angry.

She struggled to sit up, but it _hurt_ , and for however long - she had no sense of time - she lay flat on her back, eyes closed, thinking of nothing.

No, that was wrong.

She was thinking, _this probably isn’t what death feels like_. She was thinking, _I hoped I would see my parents again._ And she was also thinking, _if this is death, it’s kind of a letdown._

When she was certain she could sit up with a minimal amount of pain, she dug her palms into the sand and slowly, laboriously, pushed herself into a sitting position.

The world had ended violently, so why was the ocean so peaceful? Why was the beach so quiet? 

Too quiet.

That probably wasn’t what death felt like. 

She chanced a look around, and Cassian - _Cassian!_ \- was sprawled in a crumpled heap a few feet away.

Her breath caught in her dry throat. It was too much to hope that he might be alive. Too much to hope that afterlife was a quiet beach together.

No.

She wasn’t dead. Death wouldn’t be a dry mouth and scorched skin and dull, aching pain over every part of her body.

Or if that was death, it was a fantastic fucking disappointment. A shitty joke on the part of the universe.

The sky was achingly blue and cloudless. The tide was low and gentle. There were no birds in the sky, no birds skimming the water.

When she was certain she could handle it, she crawled slowly over to Cassian, fingers digging painfully into hot, dry sand. Tentatively she put her hands on his shoulders - breath hitching in her scratchy throat - and rolled him over onto his back.

He looked peaceful, and she couldn’t help herself. She put a hand on his warm cheek, brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

She closed her eyes and breathed. There was nothing else she could do.

“Are we dead?” 

The voice was brittle with pain and ragged with exhaustion, but it was _Cassian’s_ voice, and Jyn’s eyes flew open and she looked down at him, and her mouth dropped open, and she probably looked like a surprised, drowning fish, and she didn’t care in the slightest. 

He gazed back up at her, breath shallow and belabored, but he was _breathing._ He was alive.

“No.” Her voice hitched. She didn’t care. “We’re not dead.”

Something like a smile flitted across Cassian’s cracked lips. “Death shouldn’t hurt this much.” He didn’t try to move, and Jyn’s hand lingered on his forehead.

“We’re not dead,” she repeated, smoothing his hair back, filthy with sand and dirt and dried blood.

“Yet.” Cassian coughed, and it sounded dry and painful.

They probably could’ve killed for some water right then.

Jyn snorted at the thought and immediately regretted it. Her fingers went to her nose, coming away slick with blood and sand and grime. An absurd bubble of laughter welled up from somewhere inside of her and spilled over, and then she was laughing on their quiet death beach.

“Wouldn’t it be funny-” Her sides ached from laughter. Or from battle. Probably both. “Wouldn’t it be funny - and not actually _funny_ , but funny - if we lived through all of this, only to die of thirst?”

“Oh yes.” Cassian again tried to smile and winced instead. “Yes, very funny. Exactly as I imagined my death.”

Jyn couldn’t hold herself up anymore. She sank into the sand, laying on her side so she could at least keep her eyes on Cassian. “It’d be kind of embarrassing.”

He turned his head to look at her. “Very.”

“Let’s hope they make up something more heroic for us.” Her fingers scrabbled in the sand, looking for Cassian’s, and they hooked their little fingers together. “Something dramatic.”

“This wasn’t dramatic enough?” He coughed again, and his whole body shuddered with the force of it. 

The energy seemed to be draining from him rapidly, and there was nothing Jyn could do but watch and hold his hand. She was too tired to even lift her head anymore.

If they died quietly right then, side by side and holding hands, while the waves lapped gently at the silent shore, she thought it wouldn’t be so bad. 

She wasn’t afraid. Just tired.

So tired.

She closed her eyes. 

Breathed

As she drifted away, she thought maybe she heard something in the distance. Something to break the silence of their quiet beach - urgent shouting, heavy footsteps pounding in the sand. 

“Do you hear that?” Cassian murmured, but Jyn was too tired to pick her head back up.

Whatever happened would happen.

…

The Alliance frigate traveled through the vast Sluis Van system, and in a small cabin in the belly of the ship, Jyn was getting drunk for the third time with Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan. 

Formerly of Alderaan. 

Because Alderaan had been destroyed by the Death Star, a loss that Jyn found so monstrous in its sheer unfathomability and horror that she could hardly wrap her mind around it at all.

Better not to think too much about it. Better to keep moving forward..

Leia was the one who told her that, the first time they had gotten drunk together.

“We have no time for sorrows,” she had said, over a very strong (and very unpronounceable) Rodian whiskey. “There’s always work to be done.”

“Bantha shit,” Jyn had said flatly, and tossed back her own shot of Rodian whiskey.

It _burned_ going down, but at least that meant she was alive.

“I mean it,” Leia pressed. “It’s better to keep moving forward.” She scowled at Jyn’s empty shot glass and moved to refill it. “Would you rather I lock myself in my room and cry for days on end? Refuse to come out? Refuse to get up and do the work that needs to be done?”

Jyn considered that for a long moment. “Well, you don’t have to cry in front of me or anybody else if you don’t want to.” She shrugged. “But if you don’t cry at all…?”

She had let the rest of that thought hang in the air.

The second time they had gotten drunk together, Leia told her that they were calling Rogue One’s survival “a miracle.”

“They?” Jyn had said sharply. “Is that the royal ‘they’?”

“The Alliance,” Leia corrected, “is calling your survival a miracle. Or, should I say, several beings within the Alliance. Because,” she smirked, “we don’t all have a hive mind.”

Jyn cracked a smile at that. “The miracle rebels.” She drained off her Corellian beer. “Well, that’s some shit to live up to.”

Leia nodded. “It is. It really is.” She swirled her beer around in one hand. “As soon as you took that mission, you were destined to become either martyrs or champions. Heroes either way.”

“But no pressure.”

“Oh no. None at all.”

Jyn couldn’t help but laugh. It was probably the beer. 

By that third time they decided to get drunk, Leia simply appeared in the doorway of Jyn’s cramped cabin, bottle of Twi’lekian wine in one hand. 

“Shall we drink away our sorrows?” she asked.

Jyn set out the glasses without hesitation, though she couldn’t help but say, “The sorrows we don’t have time for?”

“Amen, sister.” Leia seated herself at the small table and wasted no time pouring them each a glass of ruby red wine. “They say Twi’lekian wine is some of the best stuff in the galaxy.”

Jyn smirked. “Is that the royal ‘they’ again?”

“No, you moon jockey.” Leia rolled her eyes. “The Coruscant Academy Wine Tasting Association. And with a name like that, you know they take their wine tasting very seriously.” She tapped the label on the bottle. “Says so right here.”

“‘Made from the best stuff in the galaxy,’” Jyn read, then nodded. “Well, damn, if they said it, it must be true.”

The wine did taste pretty good, though Jyn wasn’t sure if she had ever had enough wine to really be able to decide what counted as the best stuff in the galaxy. Or even the best stuff on any one planet.

“I mean,” she said a bit loudly, after she had gotten halfway through her third glass of wine, “it’s a pretty big galaxy, and some systems are pretty big too, and so how can you really decide what the best stuff is?”

Leia barely lifted her head from her folded arms. “That’s why they have a Wine Tasting Association. So they can tell us these things.” She blew out a wine-soaked breath that Jyn could smell from the other side of the table. “But come on, this is some pretty good stuff.”

It was some pretty good stuff.

Jyn resolved to bring another bottle of it around to someone else. Soon.

…

Jyn found Bodhi sitting on the floor of a corridor near the mess hall, chin in one hand, faraway look on his face.

“A dozen credits for your thoughts?” she asked him, bottle of Twi’lekian wine in hand. Which she had just swiped from the rations room. Not that the wine was for Bodhi, but she had been carrying it, so there it was.

Bodhi startled at that, looking at her with wide, confused eyes, until he focused on her and then smiled. “Well, I don’t know if my thoughts are worth a _dozen_ credits.”

She studied him for a moment. “Whatever you were thinking about right then, it looked like it was worth a dozen credits.”

Bodhi blew out a breath. “Luke Skywalker.” He gave no further explanation and returned to staring longingly into the middle distance.

A beat passed in silence.

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“His eyes.”

More silence.

“Okay,” Jyn said slowly. “What about _them_?”

Bodhi looked back at her, as if surprised that she needed to ask the question at all. “Well, have you ever noticed them?”

“Not especially.” A slow smile spread over Jyn’s face. “But I take it you have?”

“They’re very blue,” Bodhi supplied helpfully. 

Jyn hummed noncommittally. “We’ve only been on this ship for three standard weeks.” She folded her arms and leaned against the opposite wall, clutching the wine bottle by its neck. “Two, if you only count our time out of the bacta tanks.”

“Yeah, it definitely only counts as two.” A smile skittered across Bodhi’s face. “Being unconscious and covered in medicinal goo doesn’t count as active participation in the life of the Alliance.”

Jyn wrinkled her nose at that. “‘Medicinal goo.’ Thanks for that.” She shook her head. “Anyway, we’ve only been actively participating in the life of the Alliance for two standard weeks, and it sounds like you have a crush on the Alliance’s big damn hero.”

Bodhi’s smile faltered slightly. “Well…”

“Luckily,” Jyn continued, “you’re a big damn hero too, and a ‘miracle rebel’ at that.”

“Miracle…?” Bodhi blinked up at her. “Miracle rebel? Is that what they’re calling us?”

“Yeah,” Jyn said quickly. Shrugged and added, “More or less. So you’re well-matched as far as that goes.”

“I…” Bodhi bit his lip. Frowned slightly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I was too busy thinking... “ His gaze drifted off. “I was thinking…”

Before he could start staring into the middle distance again, Jyn said, “That you were an Imperial cargo pilot, and what would an attractive, blue eyed farm boy want with an Imperial cargo pilot?”

He looked up at her with eyes that were so wide and round and endearing, Jyn felt her heart go strangely warm. 

She wasn’t used to such feelings, and she had no idea what to do with them.

“Well, you’re not,” she said quickly, before she could think too deeply about it. “Not anymore. You’re a big damn hero and a miracle rebel and all of that other shit, so... “ She searched for something inspirational to say, and ended with, “So there.”

“Yeah.” A bright smile lit up Bodhi’s whole face. “So there.”

“Was…” Jyn hesitated. “Was that actually inspirational?”

“Well, you tried.” Bodhi was still smiling though, so Jyn decided that counted for something. “And besides, you’re right, we are big damn heroes.” He shrugged. “Whether we like it or not.”

“But no pressure.”

Jyn had not failed to notice the way some members of the Alliance looked at her. The way their voices occasionally grew hushed when she walked into a room. The way their eyes would track her movements, as if they were expecting her to do _something._

Whether that something was for good or for ill, she hadn’t yet figured out that part. 

She wondered sometimes if a few of them were resentful that she had survived - along with Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut - when so many others had perished on Scarif. (She didn’t need to wonder about Cassian; he had been one of the Alliance’s own long before the rest of them showed up.) She wondered, but no one had yet said anything, and if they did…

Well, confusion at her own so-called ‘miraculous’ survival, along with pent-up restlessness from being stuck on an Alliance ship with leadership that had yet to figure out their next base of operations, could easily lead to any number of bad reactions. So it was likely for the best that no one had said anything.

Yet.

“So…” Bodhi gestured to the wine bottle in her hand. “Drinking alone to escape the pressure or is that for someone?”

Jyn fought down her automatic inclination to snap that it was none of his damn business. She wasn’t used to that - people being interested, even politely, in her affairs. 

“It might be for someone.” That sounded weak to her own ears. She added, “I haven’t decided yet.”

Bodhi smiled. “Do you need to give yourself your own big damn hero speech?”

“Maybe.” She pushed off the wall, suddenly eager to end the conversation. “Go… go talk to Skywalker, would you? Remember that you’re a big damn hero.”

Jyn took off down the corridor, but that didn’t stop Bodhi from calling after her: “You’re a big damn hero, too! Bring him the wine!”

She wasn’t at all running away from her feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question, comments, and feedback are warmly welcomed, encouraged, and hoped for!


	2. Still Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very surprised and delighted at the quick, positive response the opening chapter got. Thank you so much!
> 
> Quite a few people asked me if I was making a _Firefly_ reference with the "big damn heroes," line, and the truthful answer is: not intentionally. I've never seen more than an episode of _Firefly_ , but I'm pretty ridiculously pleased that my own little space opera managed to pay (unintentional) homage to another, better space opera.
> 
> There is a DELIBERATE reference to one of my favorite movies ever in this chapter. See if you can spot it!

At first, Jyn swam in and out of consciousness for several days.

Or maybe it was weeks? Maybe months? She had no idea, and no way to ask.

She vaguely recalled a blur of faces, of medical droids, of beings murmuring quietly above her and around her. She thought she remembered temporarily regaining consciousness in a bacta tank, but that could have been a dream.

But always, always, there was the background hum of beings, of machines, of _life._

Somehow or another, she had survived.

Jyn awoke in bed, hooked up to machines that beeped and clicked, the medicinal smell of bacta clinging to her skin. She struggled to sit up, but found she had no energy. And anyway, the room was clean and sterile, with soothing green walls and no windows, and it told her absolutely nothing about where she was.

Well, except for the part where Mon Mothma stood at her bedside.

So she hadn’t been captured. There was that, and she’d count that as a victory.

“Well,” Jyn said hoarsely. “Looks like I’m not dead.”

Mon Mothma nodded serenely. “Of which we are very grateful.”

“We?” Jyn looked at her. “Is that the royal ‘we’?”

Mon Mothma didn’t even raise an eyebrow at that, and Jyn made a mental note to never again attempt a joke in the Alliance leadership’s direction. Rebelling against an evil empire was meant to be serious business at all times.

She figured she’d last a day or two at most.

Mon Mothma began talking, and Jyn struggled to keep up through a haze of confused, wary exhaustion. 

She understood the parts that mattered, and she decided that counted as a victory.

Mon Mothma offered Jyn the opportunity to stay and serve with the Alliance. Though, she hastened to point out, the Alliance owed Jyn such a debt of gratitude, and should she so decide, Jyn was free to leave with a clean slate, her debt repaid and her work completed. 

Jyn wondered if she could slip herself back into a medical coma, but of course, one did not simply pass out in the presence of Alliance leadership.

“Sounds great,” she managed. “The first part, I mean. Where do I sign?”

After all, where the hell else was she going to go? She was so tired of running.

“Well, Sergeant Erso,” Mon Mothma concluded, as a medical droid bearing a meal tray drifted into the room, “do give it some thought before making any hasty decisions.”

“Hasty decisions are how I got here in the first place,” Jyn said in her best attempt at a diplomatic voice. 

A ghost of a smile drifted across Mon Mothma’s lips. “At the very least,” she said, gliding gracefully to the door, “get some rest.”

As Jyn dug into a cup of wobbling green gelatinous cubes, she thought, _Sergeant Erso is kind of catchy, now isn’t it?_

When Jyn again awoke, Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan stood at her bedside. Not that Jyn had ever met the woman, but one didn’t survive very long in any system without knowing who the major players were. 

“Your…” Her throat was dry. She made a note to ask for a cup of water. “Your Highness.”

Princess Leia inclined her head. “Sergeant Erso.”

It felt significantly less catchy out of the mouth of actual royalty.

“You don’t need to call me that,” Jyn said quickly. Dismissively.

The princess quirked one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “What should I call you then?”

That gave Jyn pause. She wasn’t used to giving people her birth name. Wasn’t used to that name meaning anything besides shame and betrayal and anger.

To hell with it.

“Jyn will do fine.”

“And you don’t need to call me ‘Your Highness,’” the princess said. “Leia will do fine.”

“All right then.” Jyn nodded. “Leia.”

“Jyn.”

A beat, then Jyn gestured at the thick coils of hair wound around either side of Leia’s head. “I like your hair. Very Old Republic.”

Something like a smirk flitted across Leia’s mouth. “Yeah, it’s all the rage. Just came back into style.”

Jyn shrugged. “Well, they say fashion is cyclical.”

“Absolutely.” Leia pulled up a rolling stool and seated herself on it. “Before you know it, we’ll all feel pressured to wear feathered headdresses again, and I’m just not looking forward to that moment.”

Jyn decided right then and there that she liked the woman.

“I have a question.”

Again, Leia raised an eyebrow. “Only one?”

“You’re right, I should aim to be more ambitious. I’ll start with two.” Jyn held up a finger. “Question one: can I have some water?”

“Well, I’m no medic, but I don’t think a cup of water will do you in.” Leia went to the dispenser on the far side of the room and returned a moment later with a cup of water.

Jyn drank it down in a long, greedy gulp, then held out the empty cup. “Another.” The part of her mind that remembered some vague manners somewhere kicked in and she added, “Please.”

Leia refilled the cup at the dispenser, and Jyn slammed that back as well.

“Another. Please.”

They went through that cycle two more times before Jyn started to feel vaguely hydrated and up for a more involved conversation.

“Question two.” She sucked in her breath and steeled herself for the answer. “Were there any other survivors?”

Leia looked at her for a long moment. “The medics don’t think you’re emotionally ready to-”

“Were they any other survivors?” Jyn repeated forcefully.

“-hear such information until you’re fully healed,” Leia continued, as if Jyn had said nothing at all. “But as you seem like a big girl, not to mention someone who’s going to find answers one way or another, I’ll tell you.”

Jyn held her breath. Waited.

“There are five,” Leia said gently. “Including yourself.” She rattled off the names, and Jyn felt something foreign and dangerous and unfamiliar blossom in her chest.

_Hope._

Bodhi. Chirrut. Baze. All alive.

_Cassian._

“I want to see them,” she said quickly, clamoring out of bed and immediately going weak at the knees. She would have fallen to the ground had Leia not reached out so quickly to grab her.

“You know you’ve been in a bacta tank for a week,” she admonished. “You might want to-”

“I’m not getting back into bed,” Jyn growled. Or tried to growl. She only felt somewhat rehydrated, after all.

Again, Leia continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “-put a bathrobe on so your ass isn’t hanging out.”

It was then that Jyn realized she was wearing a backless medical gown.

\---

With Jyn clad in a bathrobe the same color green as the medical bay walls, Leia led her out of the room and down a short corridor to another room. 

Leia walked like someone who had definitely not almost died on a beach and then spent a week in a bacta tank. Jyn stumbled drunkenly, only without the fun of having any alcohol in her.

They stopped at a doorway, and Leia murmured something about privacy or some such, but Jyn didn’t hear her.

Bodhi was asleep in one bed. Cassian was in the other. They were both _breathing_ , chests rising and falling in a gentle rhythm.

Everything fell away except for that image, and Jyn staggered over to Cassian’s bed and leaned against it and put her hand on his forehead. 

His forehead was warm, and he was alive, and some strange new feeling lodged in her throat and made her eyes burn, and she didn’t care.

“Hey,” Cassian murmured, cracking his eyes open and looking up at her. “Didn’t we already do this part?”

Jyn managed a wobbly sort of smile. “Yeah.” She stroked his hair, fingertips lingering at his forehead. “Yeah, we did. Only this time we’re not dead on the beach.”

A breathless puff that was half-laughter, half-sigh escaped his lips. “Only mostly dead?”

“Which means we’re slightly alive.” Jyn’s eyes burned hot and watery. She didn’t care. 

A small smile flitted across Cassian’s lips. “You’re hilarious.” He looked at her. “Jyn?”

“Cassian?”

Fuck it. 

She crawled into bed next to him, tucking the blanket around them both and then turning on her side so she could look at him.

“Better?” she whispered, and didn’t quite understand why she held her breath until he answered.

Something glimmered in his dark eyes. “Better.”

“So Mon Mothma offered me a job,” she said conversationally, as if they lay side-by-side in bed together every day. “I told her I’d look over the contract before I gave her an answer.”

She ignored the stupid fluttering in her stomach. 

“Oh yes, you’ll want to look at the health benefits.” Cassian’s expression was very serious. “Make sure you have galactic coverage, and none of that local, planetary stuff.”

Jyn licked her lips. “And vacation time.”

“Sick days.”

“Direct deposit.”

Another fraction of a smile drifted across Cassian’s face. “It’s good that you’re staying.” He hesitated, then, “I’m glad.”

The admission was so sudden and so earnest, and Jyn didn’t know what to do with that. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to awkwardly roll out of bed and hobble away.

She did neither of those things.

“Well,” she said weakly, “where else would I go?”

Cassian raised an eyebrow at that. “Lots of places. You’re a survivor. You’ll always get by.”

Jyn’s heart thudded so loudly in her chest, she was certain Cassian - or even Bodhi, who was still sound asleep - could hear it. 

“Maybe I’m tired of surviving,” she said over the roaring of her heart. “Maybe I want to do more than just get by.”

“Well,” Cassian murmured, “this is probably a good place to start.”

“Hey, everyone,” Bodhi said suddenly and loudly from his bed, and Jyn had never been so grateful for the intrusion. “It appears I’m alive.”

Cassian shifted slightly so he could glance at Bodhi. “I’m also alive.”

Jyn waved. “I, too, am alive.”

Bodhi coughed. “I have to be completely honest, I’m extremely surprised that I’m alive and talking to you all.”

“It came as a surprise to me, too,” Jyn said. “I fully expected to be dead by now.”

“I hear that,” Cassian added. “I feel like we might all need time to process this.”

“I’m not complaining though,” Bodhi said quickly. “I’m very happy to be alive.” A beat, then, “Did anyone else make it?”

Jyn hesitated a moment. “Baze and Chirrut.”

“So five of us?” Cassian’s lips thinned into a hard line. “Five made it out?”

“Yeah.” Jyn sucked in her breath. “Against all odds.”

“Dear gods,” Bodhi murmured. “It’s some kind of miracle.”

Jyn didn’t know what to say to that, and apparently neither did Cassian. The three of them lapsed into exhausted survivors’ silence, and Jyn wondered if maybe she should have hobbled out of Cassian’s bed already, but he hadn’t said anything, so neither would she.

A brown skinned human male with tightly cropped dark hair, dressed in a pale blue medic’s tunic, walked into the room. He looked from Cassian to Jyn, his mouth thinning into a disapproving line. 

“Captain Andor, you’re supposed to be recovering,” he said. “Sergeant Erso, you should be in bed.”

“I am in bed,” Jyn said quickly, earning an eye roll from the medic.

“She is in bed,” Bodhi and Cassian added, and then Cassian said, “And since when are you a medic?”

The man - who Jyn later found out was named Kes Dameron - shrugged. “Since we lost three medics in that raid on Ord Mantell. We’re in short supply. I’m helping out.”

Cassian nodded. “Good man.”

“Whatever it takes.” Kes shifted his focus to Jyn. “I’m going to help out further by disappearing for five standard minutes. When I come back, I’d like to see the normal one patient, one bed configuration in full effect.”

Without waiting for a response, Kes turned and left the room.

Jyn sighed. “That’s my cue to leave.” She awkwardly struggled out of bed, but at least her knees didn’t give out again.

Cassian looked at her, and she looked back at him, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“So,” Bodhi said loudly. “Bright side: we’re alive and it might be lunchtime.”

“Right.” Jyn smirked. “I’ve really enjoyed those green, gelatinous cubes.”

“Wait until they give you the red cubes.” Cassian smiled faintly. “My favorite.”

“I can’t wait.” 

Jyn resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his hair again, but as she slowly walked out of the room, she couldn’t help but wonder:

What might it take to get a full, bright smile from him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments, concerns, and pointing out that hidden movie reference are all warmly welcomed, greatly appreciated, and definitely hoped for!


	3. Maisha Marefu

The Alliance found their next base of operations on wet, mountainous Bakura, a planet so far on the edges of the Outer Rim as to almost count as Wild Space.

Cassian and Jyn stood on the bridge of the massive Mon Calamarian frigate, watching as the blue-green planet slowly came into view.

“It’s been a long time,” Jyn said, with something like awe in her voice, “since I’ve been to a planet that still seems to have so much natural beauty.”

“There was a plague several generations ago,” Cassian explained. “It wiped half the native population out.”

Jyn turned and looked at him. “That’s… not good.”

“Well, it’s what allowed all that natural beauty to come back.”

“Point.” Frowning, Jyn turned back to the viewport. “Not good though.”

Cassian shrugged. “After that, smugglers and pirates used the mountains as bases of operations. They dug an elaborate system of interconnected tunnels all throughout the mountains. Until,” he hesitated, “another plague wiped them out as well.”

Jyn stared wordlessly at him. 

Cassian looked back at her. “What?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why are we going there?’

“What?”

“Why are we going there?”

“The last plague was twenty-five standard years ago,” he said defensively.

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to be reassuring?”

Cassian folded his arms. “Look.”

Jyn looked. “Looking.”

He was, after all, _very_ easy on the eyes. Which was a completely inappropriate thought for the moment, and she mentally shoved it aside and focused on what was surely going to be Cassian trying to defend the Alliance’s decision to move to what was clearly a plague planet.

He scowled. “Stop looking at me like that.”

She cocked her head. Smiled. “Looking at you like what?”

“Like _that_.” He took a deep breath. “Now look.”

She looked.

He threw up his hands. “You’re impossible.”

“Who’s impossible?” Chirrut asked cheerfully, sidling up alongside them. 

Jyn hadn’t even heard them come in. _Them_ , because of course, Baze was only a few steps behind.

Immediately she pointed to Cassian and said, “He’s impossible,” right as he pointed to her and said the same.

Baze snorted. “Young love.”

“Ah.” Chirrut smiled wistfully. “Like akk puppies. So cute.”

“Oh dear gods.” Jyn held her breath and counted to ten.

Okay, five.

Two, really.

She decided that was better than nothing.

Chirrut put a hand on Baze’s arm. “What do you see? What does Bakura look like?”

“Very green,” Baze said. “Very lush. Lots of water.”

“Lots of plague,” Jyn added.

Baze looked at her. “What?”

Jyn shrugged. “Ask Cassian.”

Cassian glowered at her. 

His eyes were especially attractive when he did that, Jyn decided, and then immediately slapped that thought away.

“The Alliance,” Cassian said, “does not have the luxury of just rolling up to Coruscant and picking out the swankiest flat in the most upscale district.”

Jyn smirked. “Swanky?”

He ignored that. “We have to take what we can get, and right now, this is what we can get.”

“Well, it’s not hard to see why,” Jyn said flatly.

Chirrut grinned and tugged lightly on Baze’s arm. “Come, husband. Let’s leave the akk puppies to their tussle. They clearly have no need of us right now.”

Baze snorted, and the two of them turned and walked away, leaving Cassian standing there with a scowl on his face and Jyn with cheeks that felt slightly inflamed. 

\---

The mountains of Bakura were damp and chilly, and the elaborate network of tunnels (which were, indeed, very elaborate, and Jyn learned on day one just how easy it would be to get frighteningly lost within them) were even damper and chillier.

She hoped that meant that they were somehow plague-free.

It took the Alliance about a standard week - and working at a punishing pace - to get the tunnels fully set up and operational, but Jyn was glad for the work. Work meant she was otherwise occupied, and being otherwise occupied meant she wasn’t thinking too hard about all of the other things that usually crashed around her mind.

Loss.

Confusion.

_Cassian._

She was pleased that she would be sharing a small (windowless, damp) room with Leia and a brown skinned human female, with a thick head of dark, curly hair, named Shara Bey. 

“I left nothing to chance.” Leia sat on the edge of her cot. “I didn’t want to be too far from my drinking buddies.”

Shara tucked a curl behind her ear. “Am I a drinking buddy now too?”

Leia smirked. “You will be.” She gestured to the bottle of Twi’lekian wine on the floor next to Jyn’s cot. 

The same bottle of wine Jyn had swiped from the frigate’s rations room two standard weeks ago. The same bottle of wine that Jyn had never gotten around to sharing with anybody else.

“We could start right now,” Leia suggested.

Jyn almost - _almost_ \- protested that the wine was for someone else, but that sounded weirdly defensive to her ears and would only lead to uncomfortable questions, so instead she shrugged and said, “I’m game.”

“Great.” Leia instantly produced three glasses from a box next to her cot and set them down on another box that would serve as a table.

Jyn couldn’t help but smile. “You planned this.”

Leia snorted. “Damn straight.”

Shara sat down on the cot next to Jyn. “My kind of woman.”

Leia pulled out a fancy looking bottle opener and began uncorking the wine. “I thought Kes was your kind of man?”

“So I like both.” Shara shrugged. “I like ‘em mouthy and scrappy - man, woman, or something else.”

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” Jyn said.

Shara grinned. “I’ll drink to that.”

A moment later, they did. Leia poured three glasses of ruby red wine, and they all picked one up and clinked them together.

“To catching them all,” Shara said.

“To not catching the plague,” Jyn added.

Leia looked at her. “What?”

Jyn shook her head. “Nothing. Just drink.”

Leia shrugged. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

A half-forgotten toast that Saw used to say on completion of a successful mission swam to the surface of Jyn’s mind. 

“ _Maisha marefu,_ ” she said, before tossing the wine back. It felt good - warm and pleasant - going down.

“We’ll definitely need more of this,” Shara swirled the wine around in her glass, “if we’re going to survive the damp.”

“Amen, sister.” Leia sat back on the cot and sipped her wine. “We should make a rule: every time someone leaves Bakura, they have to return with wine.”

Jyn nodded. “Or whiskey.”

“I’m here for that.” Shara grinned. “Wine, whiskey, beer. Something. You have to return with something.”

“Something alcoholic,” Jyn said. “To show that the mission was successful.”

“Absolutely.” Leia looked from Jyn to Shara. “All in favor?”

The three of them raised their hands. “Aye.”

Leia banged her hand down on the cot. “So let it be written, so let it be done. It is law.”

Jyn took another pull on the wine and felt strangely, uncharacteristically content.

It wasn’t a bad feeling.

\---

A few standard days later, Jyn had found a tunnel that led to an alcove overlooking the vast expanse of the Bakuran mountains. She could sit right by the edge, shielded from Bakura’s endless, splattering rain, and gaze out at the craggy green mountains, some of which were so massive, they disappeared into the clouds. Down below, she could see wide, rushing rivers that twisted and coiled like snakes on the ground.

She sat with her back against the cave wall, arms hugging her knees, and let her mind wander. 

Why hadn’t she shared the wine with Cassian?

Why did she want to share the wine with Cassian anyway?

And who was to even say Cassian wanted to share some wine with her?

Just because they had almost died on a beach together? Just because they had lay in bed in the medical bay on the frigate together? Just because they kept finding one another?

That didn’t necessarily mean _anything_.

Did it?

“Someone’s in deep thought.” Bodhi was alongside her suddenly, and Jyn startled in surprise. She hadn’t even heard him come over. 

She blew out a breath. “You’re not wrong.”

Bodhi hesitated. “Can I sit?” He smiled when Jyn gestured for him to do so and then settled himself down next to her. “So… a dozen credits for your thoughts?”

Jyn smirked. “I don’t know if my thoughts are worth a dozen credits.”

“Big damn heroes, remember?” 

“Miracle rebels.”

They bumped their fists together, and then Bodhi said, “You never gave him that wine, did you?”

Jyn was silent for a moment. “We drank it.”

Bodhi raised an eyebrow. “Is that the royal ‘we’?”

“No, it’s not the-” Jyn huffed. Shook her head. “We, as in my roommates and I. We drank it.”

“But you didn’t give it to him?” Bodhi pressed, and Jyn felt herself growing annoyed and defensive. 

“Well, you haven’t spoken to Skywalker yet, have you?” she shot back.

“Eh.” Bodhi rocked his hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. “Sort of.”

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “Sort of?”

Bodhi shrugged. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?” she echoed.

Another shrug. “You know.”

She snorted. “No, I don’t know.”

“Well…” And yet another shrug. “You know.”

She held up a warning finger.

“In… passing.” Bodhi licked his lips. “We’ve spoken. In passing. Like… in a corridor. Or… on a meal line.”

“That’s pathetic.” Jyn stared up at the alcove ceiling. “We’re pathetic.”

“Who’s pathetic?” Chirrut asked cheerfully, and Jyn nearly jumped out of her damn boots that time. And a glance at Bodhi told her he had almost done the same.

“Stop doing that,” Jyn snapped.

Chirrut smiled. “Nah.” 

Behind him, Baze snorted, and behind _him_ , so did Cassian. And without waiting for an invitation (and why should they have waited anyway? It wasn’t like Jyn _owned_ the alcove), they seated themselves on the ground so that the five of them were arranged in a small circle.

Jyn decided not to focus on Cassian, who had probably decided not to focus on her, too. 

“I was looking for you,” he said, immediately blowing her theory out of orbit. 

“Well.” She licked her lips. “Here I am.”

His dark eyes lingered on hers for a moment. “Here you are.”

“We found these.” Baze held up two bottles of Twi’lekian wine. “And thought we should celebrate.” Without waiting for a response, he pulled out a bottle opener and went to work.

Bodhi smiled. “What are we celebrating?”

Chirrut grinned, set down a small box, and flipped it open. It contained five small glasses. “Our fiftieth wedding anniversary.”

“Twentieth,” Baze grunted, uncorking one of the bottles and starting on the other.

“Ah, yes, twentieth.” Chirrut shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “But married to this man, it feels like fifty.”

Baze grunted again, but he was smiling. Quickly he filled the glasses and passed them around. 

“To our twentieth wedding anniversary.” Chirrut held up his glass. “While this is, perhaps, not where or how we thought we might celebrate, the Force moves to its own rhythm, and here is where we are meant to be.”

“Even if it’s a plague planet,” Baze added, and Cassian rolled his eyes.

Chirrut nodded serenely. “Even if it’s a plague planet.”

Bodhi’s eyes widened. “Plague planet?”

“ _Maisha marefu_ ,” Jyn said, and everyone clinked their glasses together.

“So,” Chirrut licked his lips and set the glass down. “Did you know that Baze and I once got into an argument and he left me for ten years?”

“Ten years?” Baze rolled his eyes in a show of great exaggeration. “It was _two months_.”

Chirrut shrugged. “Ten years. Two months. Who can remember such things?”

“And I brought you back a slow cooker,” Baze added.

“Ah yes.” Chirrut smiled. “I did enjoy that slow cooker.”

“And,” Baze pressed, “a marriage proposal.”

Chirrut hummed in approval. “Indeed. And here we are. Fifty-”

“Twenty.”

“Twenty years later.”

Jyn exchanged a glance at Cassian, who smirked back at her. She stared into her lap, the wine in her glass suddenly very interesting.

“That’s…” Bodhi sniffled, a hand pressed to his chest. “That’s just so beautiful.”

Jyn looked at him.

Bodhi shrugged. “Well, it is.”

And to the steady rhythm of the rainfall, they continued to drink their wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE THE FIRST  
> "Maisha marefu" is Swahili for "cheers."
> 
> NOTE THE SECOND  
> There are a couple different pop culture references sprinkled throughout, including a more obscure one. If you find it, a million props to you!
> 
> NOTE THE THIRD  
> As always, questions, comments, feedback, and so on are warmly welcomed, greatly appreciated, and eagerly hoped for. Thanks for reading!


	4. Attractive Bread-Sharing Lady-Killers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having so much fun writing this story, and I'm definitely having fun sprinkling little pop culture references throughout. See if you can spot them!

Jyn stood in the meal line, taking too long to decide between the bright green stew or the bright green dumplings - each made from a combination of native Bakuran roots and tree barks, and each looking about as equally appetizing. 

Not that she was any sort of gourmand. Not by far. Years alone had seen her through many hard-scrabble meals, and years with Saw had been very much the same. And the years before that…

Well, better to never think too much about those years.

Still, gourmand or not, tree bark and root stew (or dumplings) was never going to make it on the Coruscant Association of Food Journalists’ list of ‘must eat’ cuisines. 

“Better than starving,” Chirrut said serenely, with the air of someone who had somehow been listening in on her thoughts.

Probably with the Force. If that was how the Force worked. 

Jyn scowled.

Chirrut smiled. “And don’t make that face at me.”

“How did you-” Jyn started, but Chirrut continued as if he hadn’t even heard her.

“A strong gust of wind, and bam!” His smile widened. “Your face will stick that way.”

Next to him, Baze snorted. He had an enormous pile of dumplings spread over two bowls on his tray.

“Tree bark is good for you, little sister,” he said. “Lots of fiber. You could probably use some fiber.”

The two of them drifted away, toward one of the long tables spread out over the large cavern that functioned as a mess hall.

“You sure could use some fiber.” Bodhi sidled up alongside of her and promptly reached for a large helping of dumplings. “For your emotional constipation.”

Jyn looked at him. “I will take you outside and fight you right now.”

“You probably would.” Bodhi placed a helping of dumplings on Jyn’s tray as well. “But you’d still be emotionally constipated at the end of it, not to mention wet and dirty.”

Jyn briefly considered kicking him right then and there, but decided it wouldn’t be worth the wounded expression on Bodhi’s face. 

Not to mention the shame or guilt.

She bit back a sigh. “I am not-”

“Cassian,” Bodhi said, because he was right beside them suddenly, a tray of stew and dumplings in hand, along with what looked like a pile of purple bread.

“Cassian,” Jyn echoed pointlessly.

“Cassian,” Shara Bey whispered, walking past and throwing a wink over her shoulder at Jyn.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, but plowed forward. “Jyn-”

“Jyn,” Bodhi added.

Jyn held up a hand. “Stop that.” She looked at Cassian. “Cassian-”

He sighed. “Jyn.”

“Cassian. Jyn. Cassian. Jyn.” The pilot Jyn knew to be named Han Solo was next to them suddenly, carrying his own meal tray piled high with dumplings and a bowl of stew. “You two crazy kids want to do this out of the meal line, maybe? Because you’re holding up-”

“Skywalker,” Bodhi said suddenly. “Luke.”

Indeed, he had appeared next to the group as well. He even had a meal tray. (He had opted for the stew.)

Skywalker grinned. “Rook. Bodhi.”

“Yes, now that we’ve established that we all know each other’s names,” Solo said impatiently, “can you step out of the-”

“So.” Bodhi forced a high-pitched, nervous laugh, and Jyn winced in something like sympathy. “Skywalker. Uh. Luke.”

“Rook.” Skywalker’s grin broadened. “Bodhi.”

Jyn wanted to kick the both of them.

Solo rolled his eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud, can you just-”

“Don’t mind the shaggy bantha here,” Leia said, coming up alongside Solo. “He likes to imagine he’s some sort of suave, seasoned lady-killer.”

“Hey,” Solo started, but Leia continued undeterred. 

“But the only thing he’s managed to kill so far is his ship’s engine.” She smirked. “He broke his true love’s heart.”

Solo’s mouth dropped open and he turned to Leia, annoyance splashed across his face. “Listen, sister-”

Leia snorted. “I am not your sister.”

“She’s not your sister, Han,” Skywalker added. “She said she was an only child.”

Jyn sighed. Leia rolled her eyes. Bodhi simply looked at Skywalker with an expression of ridiculous admiration. Or thirst.

Probably thirst.

Solo huffed through his nose. “Whatever. That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” Cassian said suddenly. “Because all I wanted-”

“The point is...” Solo sighed and looked up at the rocky ceiling. “I can’t even remember.”

“Well, could you not remember it elsewhere?” Leia nudged him. “We’re holding up the meal line.”

Solo shot her a sharp look. “Well, excuse me, Princess.” He followed her out of the line, toward one of the tables. “ _That_ was the point, you know. That was the point.”

Leia’s reply was lost to the crowds, and Jyn shifted to look at Cassian. “So.” She cleared her throat. “Did you want to tell me something?”

Cassian sighed and gestured to the pile of purple bread on his tray. “I saved you some ubi bread.”

“Ubi bread?” Jyn looked at the bread and then back at him.

“Ubi bread.” Cassian nodded. “I saved you some ubi bread.”

 _How sweet_ , Jyn wanted to say, but the words died on her lips before she could release them.

“That is literally all I wanted to tell you,” Cassian added. “I have ubi bread. For you.” He swallowed. “That I saved.”

 _You were thinking of me._ The words stuck to Jyn’s tongue.

“How nice,” Bodhi said loudly.

“That is nice,” Skywalker added helpfully. 

“How about you go sit down,” Bodhi continued, “and share the ubi bread with each other?”

“Yeah, let’s all go sit down.” Skywalker grinned. “I haven’t really gotten to know you guys yet.”

Bodhi’s eyes lit up at the idea. Jyn was surprised they weren’t sparkling.

Cassian said nothing. 

…

“And then we all sat down at the table and ate the ubi bread,” Jyn said over a bottle of Corellian beer. “And the stew and the dumplings.”

“All of you?” Leia raised an eyebrow, her own bottle of beer dangling between her fingers. “All four of you?”

They each sat on their cots in the damp, windowless room they shared, a box of pilfered Corellian beer between the three of them. 

Jyn nodded. “All four of us. Me, Cassian, Bodhi, and Skywalker.” She bit back a sigh. “All four of us and a pile of ubi bread.”

“Oh, Luke.” Leia shook her head. “You _farm boy_.”

Shara clucked her tongue sympathetically and took a pull on her own beer. “Was the ubi bread good at least?”

“Yeah.” Jyn shrugged. “It was great. Very good purple bread.”

The stew and the dumplings hadn’t been half-bad either, Jyn was forced to admit. (Or maybe she just had no taste. That was also highly plausible.)

“Would’ve been better if…” 

She trailed off, suddenly aware of the keen, knowing expressions on both Leia and Shara’s faces. A surge of irritation flashed through her. Or maybe self-consciousness.

Probably both.

“It’s just bread,” Jyn said sharply. “He probably shares bread with everyone, like some sort of…” She sputtered in her frustration. “Some sort of… attractive… bread-sharing… lady-killer.”

“Cassian?” Shara choked on her beer and burst out laughing, showering both Jyn and Leia with a spray of Corellia’s best brew. “Cassian Andor?”

Jyn wiped the sprinkle of beer from her face.

Shara hugged herself and bent over on the cot, laughing so hard that her shoulders shook. “Oh, my sides hurt. My sides. Oh my gods.” She held up a finger, but it was another minute or two before she could pull herself together and sit up.

Leia sipped at her beer, an amused expression on her face.

“Okay,” Shara said breathlessly, wiping at watery eyes. “Okay, I’m good now. I’m good.” She looked at Jyn, her mouth twisting into a smile despite herself. 

Jyn glowered at her, which only made Shara giggle.

“Okay, look.” Shara held up a hand. “Look.”

“Looking,” Jyn said flatly.

“Okay, okay, don’t fight me.” Shara held up both hands, but she was still smiling. “Listen, there are a few things you should know about Cassian Andor. One: he is not, by any means, a… a bread-sharer. No bread sharing in the Cassian Andor system.”

“No bread sharing,” Jyn repeated, eyebrow raised. 

“In other words,” Leia said, “he doesn’t fuck around.”

“Oh my gods. The mouth on you.” Shara shot her a delighted glance. “Aren’t you a princess?”

Leia shrugged. “So I’ve been told.” She waved her hand regally. “Do continue.”

Shara sketched a mock bow. “Thank you, my lady.” She looked at Jyn. “And two: Cassian is so emotionally constipated that sharing bread with you?” She smiled. “Grand gesture, girl. Grand gesture.”

Jyn didn’t know what to say to that.

“You feel me?” Shara’s voice took on a sing-song quality. “He liiiiiikes you.”

Jyn really didn’t know what to say to that.

…

The next day, General Draven assigned Jyn, Bodhi, and Luke Skywalker to the fourth quadrant of the Alliance’s terrestrial perimeter to plant security beacons in the muddy ground. It was necessary, yet tedious work, made more difficult by both the craggy, sloping hills that formed Bakura’s terrain and the torrential downpour that had not let up even slightly in the three hours they had been outside. 

“Attractive, bread-sharing lady-killer?” Bodhi squinted at Jyn, rain splattering off his goggles. “You said that?”

Jyn sighed under her heavy, hooded raincoat. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

“Hey, guys!” Skywalker shouted - only a short distance away, but voice muffled by endless, cascading sheets of rain. “I think this is a good spot!”

“Great!” Jyn shouted back, then glanced at Bodhi. “How many more of these things do we have?”

Bodhi hefted an unwieldy backpack filled with security beacons and their various components “Three?”

Jyn bit back another sigh. “Fuck.”

They started forward, crunching through thick pebbles and even thicker mud, when Bodhi grabbed her gloved hand suddenly.

“Jyn,” he said urgently, rain pelting against his hooded visor. “Be my wingman.”

She looked at him. “What?”

“Be my wingman.”

“Yeah, I heard you. What did you mean?”

“Guys?” Skywalker called. He was already digging a spot in the ground. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Jyn yelled. “We’re just… just doing... a thing.” She rolled her eyes and looked at Bodhi. “What are we doing?”

Bodhi took a breath.

“Five words or less,” Jyn said quickly.

Bodhi counted off his fingers. “Help. Me. Get. Him.” He hesitated, then held up his thumb. “Jyn.”

Jyn blinked.

Bodhi smiled. “Please?”

“That was six words.” 

Bodhi’s face fell.

Jyn felt that familiar surge of guilt and sighed. “I’m emotionally constipated, remember?”

“And I’m an emotional idiot.” Bodhi shrugged. “Together we make a great team.”

“Guys!” Skywalker didn’t bother hiding the frustration in his voice this time. “Little help?”

“Yeah, we’re coming.” Jyn started forward again, Bodhi slogging next to her.

“So you’ll help?” he asked. “Help me figure out how to talk to him? Help me go from staring to… to sharing?”

Jyn glanced at him under her hood. “Sharing what?”

“My heart,” Bodhi said simply.

“Oh dear gods.” 

“Well?”

“I’ll…” Jyn licked rainwater off her lips, though she wasn’t sure why she bothered. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Between the three of them, it still took a long time to get the beacon planted in the ground. The device kept slipping out of their wet gloves, the hole kept filling with mud before they could properly install everything, and the endless, endless gusts of wind and sheets of rain made it hard to see clearly, even with goggles.

“All right,” Skywalker said, panting with hands on knees. “Two more to go.”

“Six beacons in three and a half hours.” Bodhi struggled into his backpack again. “Is that good?”

Jyn shrugged. “Compared to what?”

Skywalker straightened. “What, you guys aren’t having fun? I could do this all day.” He must have caught the look on their faces, because he grinned. “Hey, it’s better than moisture farming.”

Jyn blew out a wet breath. “More than enough moisture here.”

“More moisture than we would have harvested in two years,” Skywalker agreed, the two of them carefully making their way over the next hill as Bodhi followed behind with the backpack.

The ground dropped out from under Jyn’s feet suddenly. She had a split second to look at Skywalker, who reached out and grabbed her arm.

And then they were falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments, feedback, and kudos are all warmly welcomed, greatly appreciated, and eagerly hoped for!


	5. Bumpkinish Hicks

They fell forever. 

Long enough that Jyn stopped screaming - just in time to slam bodily against the side of the mountain, which the neverending rain had turned into a giant slide.

A giant slide of mud and fear, without any of the fun that one might normally find on a giant slide.

Skywalker was probably screaming too, or maybe that was still Jyn, terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought as she hurled down the side of a muddy mountain on a god forsaken plague planet.

Abruptly the slide tossed them out into thin air, and Jyn had a split second to think _I survived Scarif to die screaming on a god forsaken plague planet_. 

They plunged into a river made wild by constant, heavy downpours, and for however long - who could tell? - the current dragged them like helpless ragdolls through winding canyons.

The view might have been pleasant, if not for the terror.

Somehow, they finally washed up on a rocky shore strewn with driftwood and dotted with brilliant green scrub vegetation. Jyn barely had time to claw gratefully at the soft, wet ground before Skywalker was tugging on her arm.

“Come on!” he yelled over the endless rain. “I see a place to take cover!”

Which meant they could hopefully get out of the rain for even five standard minutes.

Jyn groaned and heaved herself to her feet, staggering drunkenly until Skywalker caught her under the arm. Together they weaved and wobbled toward what appeared to be a large alcove in the side of the canyon, though she could barely tell through the sheets of rain and her own exhaustion.

“Let go.” 

She wrenched away from Skywalker and staggered to one of the alcove walls, bracing a hand against smooth rock. For a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to catch her breath, tried to keep from screaming into the void.

If she started, she wouldn’t stop.

Then she tore off her goggles and threw them to the ground, along with her heavy gloves. She pushed back the hood of her bulky raincoat - torn in places now and covered in layers of mud and grime - and wiped at her hair, filthy and matted against her forehead.

“Oh fuck,” she breathed. “Holy Hutt-fucking hell. Gods fucking dammit on ubi bread.”

“Wow.” Skywalker pushed his goggles up on his forehead and removed his gloves, tucking them into his raincoat pockets. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Jyn shot him a sharp glance. “My mother’s dead.”

“Oh.” Skywalker hesitated. “So’s mine.”

Jyn folded her arms. “My father is dead too.”

“Yeah,” Skywalker said. “Same.”

She glowered at him. “And so is my foster parent.”

He nodded. “Ditto.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Because of the Empire.”

“Yep,” he agreed.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Finally, slowly, Skywalker said, “My father was betrayed and murdered by Darth Vader. I never knew my mother.” He frowned slightly and stared up at the ceiling. “Now I think about it, I’m not sure why I didn’t ask Ben about her too.”

“Ben?” Jyn guessed. “He was your foster father?”

“Nah.” Skywalker shook his head. “He was the last Jedi Knight.”

“Oh.” 

“Vader murdered him too.”

“Ah.” Jyn frowned. Leaned back against the alcove wall. “That sucks.”

Luke blew out a breath. “It does. I was hoping to be a Jedi Knight myself.”

Jyn considered that for a moment. “Tough break.”

“Indeed,” Skwalker agreed.

“My mother was murdered by the Empire,” Jyn offered. “Then my father was forced to build the Death Star, until the Empire murdered him too.”

Skywalker blew out another breath. “And your foster parent?”

“Blown up, along with an entire city, by the Empire. Yours?”

“Burned alive. Also by the Empire.”

“Well.” Jyn’s hands went to her hips. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Skwalker stared at nothing in particular. “Wow.”

“That’s some dark stuff,” Jyn conceded. 

“It escalated quickly,” Skywalker agreed. 

Another protracted silence, then Skywalker sat down against the alcove wall and gestured for Jyn to do the same.

“Pull up some dirt,” he offered, “and stay awhile.” 

“I don’t think we have a choice.” 

She sat down next to him, dug around in her ruined raincoat, and pulled out a comlink. Even the most cursory glance at it told her it was waterlogged and thoroughly ruined.

“Well.” She tossed it down by her feet. “There we go.”

Skywalker looked at the device and then looked at her. “Shouldn’t those things be…?”

Jyn looked back at him. “What?”

“I mean, I’m no expert, coming from a planet where water is something you have to actively farm, but…” Skywalker licked his lips. “Shouldn’t those things be waterproof? For times like this?”

“Sure.” Jyn shrugged. “The expensive, military-grade ones, sure.”

“But the Rebellion…?”

“Operating on a shoestring budget.” 

“Oh.” Skywalker seemed to turn the idea over in his head for a moment or two. “But,” he said suddenly, “they have X-Wings and stuff. They definitely have military-grade equipment.”

“Sure,” Jyn agreed. “They have some military-grade stuff, and it’s a precious commodity, and they’re not going to waste it on a couple of people who were supposed to be planting security beacons.”

“Oh,” Skywalker said again, then let his gaze drift to his muddy boots. “This is all pretty new to me.”

“This is pretty much what I know.” Jyn pushed a hand through her gross, matted hair. “The farming almost sounds-”

“Hickish?” Skywalker said defensively. “Bumpkinish?”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “I was going to say ‘pleasant.’ Bucolic.”

He had the good grace to look abashed. “Oh.”

“Besides, ‘bumpkinish’?” She raised an eyebrow. “Is that even a word?”

He shook his head, a smile playing over his lips. “Why not? And anyway, it _was_ bumpkinish. I hated it. It’s what I knew, but I hated it.” He drew up his legs, resting hands on knees. “I always wanted more.”

“And this?” Jyn gestured to the alcove and the sheets of rain just beyond. “Is this the more that you wanted?”

“Yes.” Skywalker looked at her with a painfully earnest expression. “Yes, completely. This is great.”

“Great?” Jyn echoed.

“Great,” Skywalker repeated, his eyes serious, no hint of sarcasm to be found. “We’re doing something that matters.” 

“I’m sure all that farming mattered to the people who received the water,” Jyn said evenly.

Skywalker looked at her. Frowned slightly. “Maybe…”

Jyn shrugged. “Definitely.”

His gaze drifted out to the downpour. “This is something that could actually change things.”

A moment passed in silence. Jyn wondered how long it would take for the search party to find them. They couldn’t have gone that far down the river. 

If a search party came for them. 

“Hey,” Skywalker said suddenly. “Want some ubi bread?”

She looked at him. “What?”

He pulled a sealed container out of his raincoat. “I brought some. In case we got hungry.”

“You brought...” Her gaze went from the container to him. “Were you going to eat bread in the rain?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Desert farm boy, remember? I hadn’t thought of that part.” He opened the container and passed her a piece of purple bread. “But it was some great bread that Captain Andor shared with us the other day.”

Jyn tore off a piece of bread with her teeth and grunted noncommittally.

“He’s pretty great,” Skywalker continued, smiling. “Everyone’s been pretty great so far. But he seems like a great guy.”

“Great,” Jyn said around a mouthful of bread. 

“Great,” Skywalker repeated, shoving some bread in his mouth. “Really great.”

“Really, really great.” Jyn chewed furiously on the bread. “Just great. He’s super great.”

“He _is_ super great,” Skywalker confirmed. “A super great guy.”

“Hey, do you want a boyfriend?” Jyn said abruptly, because she was supposed to be Bodhi’s wingman, after all, and she was also counting on him to make sure a search party happened, so she figured she could do him that solid. 

Or maybe she just wanted to change the subject.

Skywalker blinked. “A boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” Jyn nodded. “A boyfriend. Do you want one?”

He seemed to turn the question over in his mind. Finally he said, “What kind of boyfriend?”

“The boyfriend kind of boyfriend?” Off Skywalker’s helpless look, she added, “You know, a guy that you snuggle with. Hold hands with. Share bread with.” She spread her hands. “Maybe eventually sleep with. Possibly almost die with. A boyfriend.”

“That sounds…” Skywalker licked his lips. Hesitated. “Very specific.”

“No.” Jyn snorted. “ _No._ ” She waved vaguely in the air. “No.”

“So… no?” 

“No.”

“No? Okay.” He looked away. “Jyn?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, yes?”

“What?” 

“Huh?”

“Okay.” Skywalker held up a hand. “Let’s try again.”

Jyn nodded. “Okay.”

“Jyn?”

“Skywalker?”

He grinned. “You can call me Luke.”

“And you can get to the point.” A beat. “Luke.”

“Jyn.”

“Stop that.”

He held up both hands. “Stopping. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Jyn?”

She sucked in her breath. “I swear to all the gods.”

“No, no.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m okay.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

He nodded. “I’m okay.”

She plucked another piece of ubi bread from the container, tore off a chunk, and stared at him.

In a rush, he said, “It sounds like you’re asking if I want Captain Andor to be my boyfriend. Is that right?”

Jyn nearly choked on her bread.

“I mean,” Skywalker (or Luke) continued, “he is very handsome. And he has great taste in bread.”

Jyn stuffed more great tasting bread into her mouth and chewed rapidly.

“And he seems like a great guy.” Luke smiled. “A really great guy.”

Jyn shoved more bread between her cheeks.

“Wow. You were really hungry.” Luke’s smile widened. “Good thing I brought the ubi bread, huh?”

She grunted around a mouthful bread and tried to glare at him, but Skywalker only looked at her bread-stuffed cheeks and her wide eyes and burst out laughing.

“See?” He slapped his hands against his knees. “Captain Andor has great taste in bread. You can’t get enough of it.”

She chewed quickly - angrily? - a dozen retorts dying on her tongue before she could swallow the bread down. Finally she said, “I wasn’t talking about Cassian Andor.”

Luke just looked confused at that. “You weren’t?”

“No.” She shook her head. “No. I was talking about-”

“Bodhi Rook!” he shouted.

“Yes!” she shouted back.

“No!”

“What?”

“Bodhi Rook!” Luke scrambled to his feet and gestured wildly to the mouth of the alcove. “Right there!”

Bodhi Rook stood at the front of the alcove, his raincoat wet, but unsullied. He was dramatically framed by a halo of glowing light emanating from the pouring rain.

It took Jyn a split second to realize those were the lights from the rescue craft just beyond.

“They’re here!” Bodhi shouted. “They’re alive! And intact!”

“And hungry!” Luke shouted joyfully. While laughing.

Joyful laughing. 

Jyn felt weirdly confused, but she jumped to her feet right as the pilot she knew to be Wedge Antilles, along with Kes Dameron, hustled into the alcove. 

Along with Cassian.

The words weren’t even out of her mouth - _You came for me_ \- when Cassian crossed the alcove in a few loping strides and pulled Jyn into a tight, crushing hug.

“Don’t you do that again,” he muttered into her ear. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“Don’t do what?” Her arms went around him. She didn’t even care that she was mostly hugging wet raincoat. “Don’t fall off the side of a mountain in a rainstorm?”

He pulled back abruptly, his hands going to either side of her face and his forehead bumping against hers. “I can’t… I can’t lose you,” he said roughly. “Do you understand that, Jyn? I couldn’t handle it.”

Jyn didn’t know how to reply to that. She tried to toss off a witty remark, something to deflect the sudden rush of warm, confusing feelings, but nothing came to her.

Finally she whispered, “I think I understand.”

“Do you?” He leaned back slightly eyes meeting hers. “Do you, really?”

She looked back at him. “I’m trying to understand,” she murmured. “This is all new to me.”

Cassian snorted, but it was without heat. “Yeah.” He brushed a stray lock of her matted, filthy hair aside. “It’s new to me, too.”

Outside, the rain continue to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blinked, and two weeks passed. But here I am, alive and posting! Gimme some sugar! Or comments, feedback, questions, and kudos. Those are good, too.


	6. Bread-Making Freaks

“So you kissed?” Leia sat behind Jyn on the bed, brushing her hair. “That was the part where you kissed?”

Jyn - freshly showered and as warm and dry as one could ever get in Bakura’s damp caves - did her very best not to lean her head back into the gentle rhythm of the hairbrush. 

She had already done that twice, and both times, Leia ended up running the brush bristles over Jyn’s ears. But damn, the brushing felt so _good_ , and Jyn was nothing if not-

“Distracted?” Shara said from the other bed.

“What?” Jyn said loudly. Much too loudly. 

Shara smirked and continued rubbing lotion over her warm brown arms. “You’re distracted.”

Leia hummed in agreement. “Thinking of all that kissing that so obviously happened.”

“Kissing?” Jyn echoed.

“Kissing,” Shara confirmed.

Jyn forced herself to pay attention. “Who’s kissing?”

Shara raised an eyebrow and looked past Jyn to Leia, and even without turning around, Jyn could tell some sort of silent, disapproving exchange was happening. She instantly felt annoyed and defensive, and if it hadn’t been for the soothing brushing, she might have even gotten up off the bed. 

Maybe.

“Look,” she said in a tone that would have been a lot more heated, if not for Leia’s gentle ministrations. 

“Looking.” Shara continued to rub lotion into her arms. She very clearly wasn’t looking.

“Also looking,” Leia added. She was very likely looking, at least at the back of Jyn’s head. “How do you want me to braid your hair, by the way? You don’t have a lot to work with.”

“Dear gods.” Jyn snorted. “First the silent judgment, then the vocal judgement.”

“Girl, no.” Shara set the lotion bottle aside and leaned forward slightly. “All of our judgment is highly vocal.”

“Loth-cat tails it is,” Leia said, and began to braid one side of Jyn’s head. “So? Kissing?”

“There was no time for kissing,” Jyn said sharply. Sort of. The braiding was just as soothing as the brushing. “There was a lot of near-death and heavy rain happening.”

“That’s the perfect time for kissing.” Shara dug around in the box she kept by the foot of her bed and pulled out a bottle of Devaronian wine. “Almost died. Soaking wet.”

“Very appealing.” Leia twisted off the end of the braid and began work on the other side. “Highly romantic.”

“I was filthy dirty,” Jyn protested. 

“In both thought and deed?” Leia asked.

Jyn rolled her eyes. “Muddy,” she clarified. “With a mouthful of bread.”

Shara’s eyes lit up. “Did Cassian bring you more bread?” She worked the cork out of the wine bottle. “That’s definitely romantic.”

Leia snorted.

“For Cassian,” Shara added, and pulled out three glasses from her box, quickly pouring sparkling green wine into each of them. “It’s definitely romantic for _Cassian_.”

“Mm.” Leia tugged lightly on the one braid. “So Cassian brought you more bread.”

“As a token,” Shara waggled her eyebrows, “of his starchy affection.”

“He didn’t bring bread,” Jyn snapped. “He brought himself.” 

“Which counts for a lot,” Shara pointed out. 

“Yes,” Jyn agreed. “It does.”

“It’s a grand overture,” Shara said. “For Cassian.”

Jyn nodded. “Probably.”

“The height of romance,” Shara pressed. 

“Indeed,” Jyn said.

“A grand, romantic, sweep-you-off-your-feet overture,” Shara said. Then added, “For Cassian.”

“Agreed,” Jyn said. “We’re all in agreement here.” 

“But then,” Shara continued, “who brought bread?”

Jyn’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Luke brought bread.”

“Luke brought bread?” Leia echoed, tying off the braid and moving to Jyn’s side. 

“Luke brought bread,” Jyn repeated.

Leia frowned. “Was he going to eat it in the rain?”

“Yes. I guess.” Jyn sighed. “Yes, he most definitely was going to eat bread in the rain.”

Leia’s frown deepened. “Huh.”

Shara looked up from the wine. “Did he make it himself?”

“Luke?” Jyn asked.

Shara nodded. “Yeah.”

Leia raised an eyebrow. “Can Luke make bread?”

“Gotta get me a freak like that,” Shara said. 

Leia raised both eyebrows. “A bread-making freak?”

Shara nodded. “A bread-making freak.”

“A bread-making freak,” Leia echoed. She glanced at Jyn. “So is he?”

Jyn stared back at her. “Is who?”

Leia rolled her eyes. “Is Luke?”

“Is Luke what?” Jyn shot back.

“A bread-making freak?” Leia clarified.

“I… I don’t know.” Jyn shook her head. “Who cares?”

Bodhi probably cared. She filed away that pertinent bit of information for later - Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion, potential bread-making freak - all the while wondering how the conversation had managed to run so far away from her. 

“And anyway” she continued, “that’s not the point.”

Shara pushed a glass of green wine into Jyn and Leia’s hands each. “What’s the point?”

“The point… the point is…” Jyn blew out a breath and held up the wine glass. “ _Maisha marefu._ ”

“ _Maisha marefu_ ,” Shara and Leia repeated, and then everyone tossed back a generous mouthful of wine.

Shara smacked her lips. “Kissing! That was the point.”

“No.” Jyn sipped at her wine. “Kissing didn’t happen.”

“But it should have.” Leia shrugged and looked at Jyn over the rim of her glass. “That’s the point. It should have.”

Jyn stared silently into her glass. 

Possibly.

Maybe.

She wished she knew.

Later, as everyone was ostensibly sleeping, Jyn found herself laying in bed and staring moodily at the ceiling. 

Why hadn’t kissing happened yet? Was kissing supposed to happen at all? Who was to say Cassian wanted to kiss her? Or that she even wanted to kiss him?

He had saved bread for her. He had come looking for her. Even told her that he couldn’t handle losing her.

But what, if anything, did it all mean?

She groaned and rolled onto her side and spent five - maybe ten, maybe fifteen - standard minutes convincing herself that she was going to fall into a deep, restful, and care-free sleep at any moment.

Which was total bantha shit, but she had to give herself credit for at least _trying_.

When she had been about thirteen years old, she had gotten swept up in a melodramatic romance serial on the HoloNet. In one sequence, the human woman realized - after her grandmother had been murdered, no less - that what she wanted more than anything was to be with the handsome Anzati male she had become attracted to. And so she fled into the night, her white nightgown billowing around her, straight into the arms of the Anzati male, and then they made passionate love.

“True love doesn’t work like that,” Saw had told her. “It looks or acts nothing like that.”

“True love _should_ look like that,” thirteen year old Jyn had argued. “It should be all-consuming.”

“So that it consumes you?” Saw had challenged. “Consumes all of you, burns you out, until you have nothing left to give?”

Jyn had glowered at him.

“True love,” Saw had said with finality, “doesn’t work that way.”

And maybe - probably - that was true, but at the time, Jyn hadn’t cared. It had seemed very romantic, and long after she had forgotten the specific details of that romance serial, that one passionate sequence remained etched in her mind.

Well, she didn’t have a billowing nightgown and luckily no one new had been murdered lately, but maybe she could at least pay Cassian a nighttime visit? 

See what happened from there?

Before she could lose her nerve, she slid out of bed, pulled her boots on, and crept toward the door, easing it open. 

“Get your man, girl,” Shara muttered into her pillow. “Get your life.”

Jyn froze, then glanced at Shara, who didn’t lift her head from the pillow or even open her eyes. Quickly Jyn slid through the crack in the doorway, then shut the door behind her, and blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

And that was just step one.

She walked purposefully down the corridor - no reason to appear like she was sneaking around a rebel base in the middle of the night - rounded a corner, and ran smack into Chirrut.

“Little Sister,” he said serenely, as if Jyn had not just crashed bodily into him. “What brings you sneaking through these halls at this hour?”

Jyn scowled. “I wasn’t sneaking.”

The shadow against the wall- Jyn assumed it was Baze - snorted.

“One should not gallop loudly,” Chirrut continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “when a soft footstep will win the same race with less effort.”

Jyn licked her lips. “Is that… is that a proverb? A proverb of the Whills?” 

“Oh yes.” Chirrut smiled. “A very old and ancient proverb.”

“My husband is such a liar.” Baze stepped out of the shadows. “It’s from an old adventure serial that he likes to listen to.”

“Ah. Indeed.” Chirrut’s smile widened. “Well, who can keep track of such things at my advanced age?”

Jyn huffed, though it was without heat. “Okay.” She folded her arms. “What brings _you_ sneaking through these halls at this hour?”

“My evening perambulation,” Chirrut explained. “When the mind is restless, best to move the body along with it.”

“Is _that_ a proverb?” Jyn asked.

“No.” Chirrut shook his head. “Just some good advice from an old man.”

Baze looked at Jyn with knowing eyes. “And where are you going-”

“Perambulating,” Chirrut interjected.

“Perambulating,” Baze repeated, his expression one of fond exasperation. “Where are you perambulating this evening, Little Sister?”

Jyn suddenly felt caught out. Exposed. Possibly even foolish, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Or anger. Maybe both.

“Nowhere,” she said irritably. “The mess hall, maybe.”

Baze raised an eyebrow. “For some bread?”

“Sure,” she agreed. “For some bread.”

“Don’t forget to bring him some wine, too.” Chirrut smiled, and though he could probably sense Jyn’s glower, he ignored it. “To help wash the bread down.”

Jyn said nothing to that and watched as the couple perambulated arm and arm down the corridor. It was strangely sweet and made her feel oddly motivated.

Filching a bottle of wine from the mess hall was the work of a minute. The only beings lingering in the mess hall at that hour were the insomniacs - who gave her the most cursory of nods - and those who were patrolling on nightwatch, and therefore didn’t care about a single bottle of wine.

So that was step two.

Again she strode purposefully down the corridor, though she couldn’t help but notice that her footsteps slowed the closer she got to Cassian’s door.

She stopped in front of his door. Raised her fist.

And spent a long time just standing there stupidly, fist raised, bottle of wine in hand.

It was just _wine_ , she told herself.

Just wine that she just so _happened_ to be carrying through the halls.

At three in the morning.

Totally, completely normal.

Before she could lose her nerve, she tapped gently at the door.

Step three completed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 points to SlytherGryffinRavenPuff if you figure out the show Jyn watched when she was 13 years old.
> 
> As always, feed the author. NOM NOM NOM!


	7. Booty Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're back!

For an interminable moment, no one answered the door. 

Which was probably good. 

Good that no one answered the door, good that no one saw Jyn standing there in her pajamas and boots, hair twisted up in ridiculous loth-cat tails on either side of her head. 

Definitely good that no one saw her standing outside Cassian’s door at three in the morning, bottle of wine in hand. 

All good.

She turned to go, blowing out a sigh of relief, and just then the door eased open slowly. 

“Jyn?” 

She whirled around. Cassian peered through the crack in the door, eyes narrowed suspiciously. From what little Jyn could see behind him, the room was dark.

Because he had been sleeping. Of course.

“Cassian,” she started, her face warming in either embarrassment or awkwardness. Or both. 

Most definitely both. 

“Is this an emergency?” Cassian snapped into alertness, his eyes sudden fever-bright. 

Jyn looked at him. “What?”

“Is there an emergency?” he demanded.

She blinked. “An emergency?”

Cassian snorted. “What’s the emergency?”

“What emergency?” Jyn spat.

She heard a stumble and a crash behind Cassian, and suddenly Bodhi appeared, shoving Cassian aside roughly.

“Oh my gods, is there an emergency?” Bodhi eyes were wide with either panic or sleeplessness. “Are we under attack?”

“Under attack?” Jyn wished she had never gotten out of her damn bed. “No, I’m-”

“Under attack?” Cassian elbowed Bodhi aside. “When? Who?”

Jyn huffed in exasperation. “We’re not-”

“When were you going to tell me?” Cassian demanded. “Who else knows? We have to alert-”

“Cassian,” Jyn said quickly. “We’re not-”

“-everyone. The General. Right now,” Cassian continued. “Get everyone up. Sound-”

“-under attack. Cassian. Listen-”

“-the alarm. Right now. Why are you still-”

“-to me. Would you just-”

“-standing there, Jyn? We have to move now!”

“We’re not under attack!” Jyn actually stamped her foot in frustration. “Okay? We’re not under attack.”

Cassian frowned. “We’re not under attack?”

Bodhi reappeared. “She said we’re not under attack.”

Cassian’s frown deepened. He gestured to Jyn. “But you said-”

“I never said,” she snapped.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Then who said?”

She pointed to Bodhi. “He said.”

Bodhi blinked. “I said?”

Jyn nodded. “You said.”

Bodhi looked impossibly disappointed. “Oh. Yeah.” He licked his lips. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Jyn sighed. “You did.”

Cassian looked at Bodhi. “Why did you?”

“Because you did,” Bodhi retorted. “You said there was an emergency.”

“Oh.” Cassian looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

“So then…” Bodhi cleared his throat. “What’s actually going on? If there’s no emergency? What brought you here?”

Jyn glared at him.

Bodhi looked at her for a long moment. “Oh.” His eyes widened. “ _Oh._ ”

“Oh?” Cassian looked back and forth between them. “What ‘oh’? What’s this ‘oh’?”

Jyn was two steps away from turning around and running full-speed back to bed, when a voice behind both Cassian and Bodhi said:

“You sorry bunch of meatballs.” 

The door was flung open suddenly, and Kes Dameron stood there, dark hair sticking up in all directions and an incredibly amused smirk on his face.

Jyn resisted the urge to turn and run down the corridor. Or slug him. Possibly a satisfying combination of the two. 

“It’s not an emergency,” Kes continued. “It’s not an attack.”

“What then?” Cassian demanded.

Bodhi licked his lips and stared at the ceiling. 

Kes snorted. “It’s a _booty call_ , you slow-witted wampa.”

“A booty…?” Cassian looked at Jyn. Looked at the wine in her hands. “Oh.” His eyes widened slightly. “ _Oh._ ”

Jyn breathed out slowly through her nose. 

“Yeah.” Kes folded his arms. “ _Oh._.”

Jyn sighed again. “Yep.”

“Well.” Cassian pushed a hand through his hair. “Huh.”

“We’re definitely at ‘huh’,” Jyn agreed.

Kes shook his head and looked at her apologetically, though his mouth was still quirked in a smile. “He’s a fighter, not a lover.”

Bodhi gestured to Jyn. “So is she.”

Kes nodded. “Emotionally constipated, the both of them.”

“Right?” Bodhi agreed. “Thank you.”

Jyn blew out a breath. “Screw this, I’m going to-”

“No, wait.” Cassian stepped into the hallway. “Don’t go to bed.”

“Without him,” Kes added.

Jyn narrowed her eyes. 

“Or do.” Kes shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

“Go to bed,” Cassian said irritably. 

“I’m _trying_ to,” Jyn huffed.

“No.” Cassian looked at Jyn. “Not you.”

Jyn looked back at him. Raised an eyebrow.

“The both of you.” Cassian gestured to Kes and Bodhi. “Go to bed.”

Kes grinned. “Separately or together?”

Bodhi looked at Kes. Opened his mouth wordlessly.

Cassian snorted. “Either. Or. I don’t care. Just go.”

Kes shrugged again. “‘kay.” 

Bodhi waved to Jyn. “Good night and good luck-” 

“-with your booty call.” Kes pushed a small container into Cassian’s hands. “Don’t forget your bread.”

“Can’t forget the bread,” Bodhi agreed. “So romantic.”

“He’s been saving ubi bread.” Kes winked at Jyn. “For a night like this.”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of-”

“No, no, no.” Kes wagged a finger. “Save the loving for not-me.”

“And not-me,” Bodhi added. 

“Go the fuck to bed,” Cassian said through gritted teeth.

Kes shrugged cheerfully. “Get some wine and bread in you and then see how you feel about fucking in bed.”

Cassian put his hand on the small of Jyn’s back. “Let’s just not be here now, hm? Let’s be anywhere else.”

Jyn _nearly_ said that she’d rather be in bed, but one look at a grinning Kes and a hopeful Bodhi and she clamped her mouth shut and said nothing at all. She did let Cassian guide her down the hall though.

“Good night!” Bodhi called after her.

“Good luck!” Kes added.

“Fuck off,” Cassian called back.

Jyn suppressed a smile. 

There was a reason she liked him, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THAT WAS A MUCH LONGER ABSENCE THAN PLANNED! In the past few months, I've had my ass kicked by both real life and by committing to _two_ Captain America Reverse Big Bang fics. I ambitiously thought I could keep up with EVERYTHING, but LOL, no. But life has calmed down, Reverse Big Bang is complete (and pretty cool, if I do say so myself), and I've got a couple of nerds in a galaxy far, far away to get together.
> 
> After all, that fake marriage sequel ain't gonna write itself.
> 
> As always, feedback is the ubi bread of life.


	8. Coruscant's Hottest Nightclub

“So,” Cassian said.

“So,” Jyn echoed.

They looked at each other, two beings in pajamas and boots, one holding a bottle of wine and the other holding a box of ubi bread. (And Jyn’s hair was still braided in those ridiculous loth-cat tails, but if Cassian didn’t mention them, she could pretend he didn’t notice them.)

“Want to go the mess hall?” Cassian suggested.

Jyn shook her head. “Beings there.”

“Which beings?”

“Insomniacs. Heavy drinkers. Dreamers.” Jyn shrugged. “Beings.”

“Fair enough.” Cassian frowned. “Comm center?”

“Definitely beings there.”

His frown deepened. “Well, where do beings go for… for…”

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “For…?”

“For wine and ubi bread,” he finished. “Where do beings go?”

“I don’t know.” It was Jyn’s turn to frown. “Probably they go somewhere that’s not a plague planet.”

“Nah.” Cassian shook his head. “Babies are born every day, everywhere.”

Jyn looked at him. Raised an eyebrow. 

Cassian’s eyes widened. “That’s not… I’m not implying...” He blew out a breath. Stared at the ceiling. “I’m not very good at this, you know.”

“Yeah.” A smile tugged at the corners of Jyn’s mouth. “Everyone keeps saying we’re emotionally constipated.”

“Everyone?” Cassian looked at her. “Everyone is saying that?”

“Everyone,” Jyn confirmed.

“Everyone,” Cassian echoed. “Everyone in the Resistance is saying that?”

“Everyone in the _galaxy_ is saying that.”

“Even Gamorrean monks?”

Jyn nodded. “ _Especially_ Gamorrean monks.”

“Huh.” Cassian’s expression turned thoughtful. “Guess we’re really emotionally constipated then.”

Jyn glanced up and down the corridor, half expecting Chirrut and Baze to come perambulating their way, but they were mercifully alone for the time being.

“Come on,” she said suddenly. “I know where we can go.”

He followed her wordlessly, and Jyn led them through the tunnels and back to the alcove overlooking Bakura’s craggy green mountains, where the five of them had toasted Chirrut and Baze’s twentieth anniversary only a few standard weeks ago.

The rain still poured down endlessly, but in the quiet of the alcove and under the cover of night, it felt peaceful instead of damp and oppressive. If she squinted, she could just make out the blurred moon through the curtain of rain.

She sat with her back to the wall. “Think we’ll find a planet better than this next time?”

“If we’re lucky,” he settled down next to her, “‘next time’ won’t be for a while.”

“You like it here?”

“I liked Yavin 4,” he said. “Here, not so much. What with the endless rain and the damp and the cold.”

“And the plague,” Jyn reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “And the plague.”

“Though,” she said, “Yavin 4 did have all that oppressive humidity going for it.” 

Cassian snorted. “It did have that. But it also had lakes you could swim in, and after it rained, the jungle would cool down for a bit, especially at night.” 

Jyn nodded. Yavin 4 did sound nicer, but she supposed there was no point in saying as much. They’d never go back there. 

“But,” Cassian continued, “I don’t like having to pack up and move around at a moment’s notice all the time either.”

Another nod. “So plague planet it is.”

A fraction of a smile twitched at Cassian’s lips. “Plague planet, indeed.”

Jyn looked at him for a moment. Hesitated. It was just the two of them, with the endless rain cascading outside and the moon blurry between the drops. Her heart slammed in her chest, and she was certain he could hear it, but what the hell. With the way things went for them, who knew when she’d get another chance? 

She leaned her head against his shoulder. After a moment, he wrapped an arm around her waist, and she let out a relieved breath. 

“Best case scenario,” he said softly, “we get a few standard years out of this plague planet. Worst case? Well, there have been bases we’ve had to abandon after a few standard weeks, and there are always worse places to be.”

“Like Wobani,” Jyn murmured.

Cassian nodded. “Like Wobani.”

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rain fall or maybe lost in their own thoughts. She was no stranger to moving around from base to base, world to world. She had gotten plenty of practice with Saw, and during the years on her own, she was rarely in the same place for more than a few standard months.

Roughly she pushed the thought aside. Better to never dwell in the past. 

“Do you want some ubi bread?” Cassian said abruptly.

Shara’s teasing voice floated through Jyn’s mind: _Grand gesture, girl. Grand gesture._

“I’d love some ubi bread.” Jyn licked her lips. “It’ll go with the wine that I filched, though I forgot to grab glasses.”

He shrugged. “So we drink from the bottle like Nerf herders. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

And with the rain pouring down outside, they ate their way through the entire container of ubi bread and drank the whole bottle of wine.

\---

“And then you kissed, right?” Shara leaned forward, hands on her knees. “That’s when you kissed?”

“Or fucked,” Leia added, deftly braiding one section of her ridiculously long hair. 

Jyn looked at her. “In an alcove?”

Leia shrugged. “There are worst places to fuck.”

Shara made an exasperated ‘tsk’ sound and waved an impatient hand in Leia’s direction. “Girl, you know they didn’t fuck. It’s enough that they ate bread and drank wine.”

Jyn sighed. “So then why are you asking if we kissed?”

“Because a girl can hope.” Shara spread her hands. “So did you? Did you kiss?”

Leia moved to another section of hair. “Or fuck?”

Shara snorted. “They didn’t fuck.”

Jyn threw up her hands. “We didn’t fuck.”

“See?” Shara said.

Leia rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” 

“If I’m going to fuck,” Jyn held up a finger before Shara could interrupt her, “ _anybody_ , I’d like a blanket, at the very least. At the _very_ least.”

“You can steal wine,” Leia began wrapping the braids around her head in a manner that seemed far too complicated for the ease of which she did it, “but you can’t nick a blanket?”

Shara waited.

“We didn’t kiss,” Jyn finally said. “We drank wine and ate ubi bread and…”

\---

In the quiet of the alcove, Jyn’s face began to feel pleasantly warm from the wine. 

She and Cassian passed the bottle back and forth between them, though his hand never left her waist and she was loathe move her head off his shoulder. Occasionally they nibbled on bits of ubi bread.

“Plague planet,” Jyn murmured, reaching out for Cassian’s free hand and threading her fingers through his. “Sounds like the name of Coruscant’s hottest nightclub.”

Cassian snorted. “How long did it take you to think of that?”

“Pretty long.” Jyn ran her thumb up and down the back of Cassian’s hand. “But I’m very proud of it.”

She had the sudden urge to climb onto his lap, to straddle his waist and press her body against his and see what his lips tasted like, sweet and warm with wine and bread.

Abruptly she sucked in her breath. “I’m not very imaginative though.”

“That right?” he said softly. The hand around her waist drifted up her back until his fingers were light against her neck. 

Gentle. So gentle.

She shivered - with pleasure, with anticipation - his touch sending a delicious spasm of tingles down her spine. 

More.

She wanted more. Because she was a big damn hero, and so was he. Because they had both lost so much, so many times. Because they sacrificed over and over again, and didn’t they deserve - hadn’t they _earned_ \- at least that much?

Because she found him ridiculously attractive, and he seemed to like her too, and why not? Why the hell not?

“I want to kiss you,” she said suddenly. “A lot. A whole helluva lot.”

“Gods, yes,” he said, pulling her even closer against him. “Gods, yes, please do that.”

Before she could lose her nerve, she shifted and swung a leg over both of his, straddling his waist. Her fingers slid into his hair, and his hands cupped her face on either side, and before either of them could change their minds, she leaned forward and brought her lips to his.

Just as she had hoped, his lips were warm and sweet. 

And so damn soft.

\---

Shara sighed happily. “Girl, you like him.”

“She’s got it bad.” Complicated hairstyle completed, Leia sat back on her back and crossed one leg over the other. 

“Super thirsty,” Shara said.

Leia smirked. “For Cassian Andor’s ubi bread.”

Jyn snorted. “That doesn’t even make sense. _You_ don’t even make sense.”

Leia shrugged.

“So then what?” Shara asked. “What happened next?”

\---

They kissed almost frantically, lips warm, tongues sliding deliciously against each other. 

Jyn clenched the thick strands of Cassian’s hair between her fingers, and his hands moved from her face to her waist and back again, almost as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to hold more.

She resisted the urge - barely, just barely - to grind herself against his lap, though she didn’t fool herself either. She could feel him stirring beneath her, and he felt so _good_ , and for a moment she let her mind wander to delicious places.

Delicious, sweaty, naked places.

Not yet though.

Soon. Maybe.

Not yet. Not there.

\---

Jyn sighed. “Then after a while, he remembered that he had patrol at dawn and that he’d be no good to anyone if he was staggering around, half-asleep in the rain.”

Shara scowled and nodded. “So you did the grown ass adult thing?”

Jyn nodded in return. “So we did the grown ass adult thing. I walked him back to his room, slapped him on the ass-”

Leia brightened. “Really?”

“No.” Jyn snorted. “Now who’s the thirsty one?”

Shara smiled. “So you admit that you’re thirsty?”

Jyn continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “I walked him back to his room, told him I’d see him at either the morning or midday meal, and then I went to bed.”

Shara hummed in approval. “So adult. So responsible.”

Leia’s gaze drifted to the ceiling. “Need me a man like that.”

Shara looked at her. “There’s no one you’re interested in?”

Leia snorted. “Not. At. All.”

Shara continued to study her for another moment, then exchanged a glance with Jyn and shrugged. 

Jyn returned the shrug and tried to suppress a smile.

It had been a good night. Ridiculous hairstyle and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE THE FIRST  
> Heeey, look who's back! That absence was much, MUCH longer than I had planned, but both life and a bit of writer's block kept throwing things my way. But here's another chapter, and I had so much fun writing it, and my interest in this story (and your commentary) is still very strong. Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon it before these ridiculous kids get together. 
> 
> Bodhi's still thirsting for a desert farm boy after all and Jyn and Cassian are only JUST getting started.
> 
> NOTE THE SECOND  
> As always, your commentary is what makes this so much fun. So have at it!


	9. Silver Platter

Two standard days later, Jyn was summoned to the office of General Draven.

‘Office’ being a relative term, of course. The General’s space wasn’t much bigger than the sleeping quarters Jyn shared with Leia and Shara, was just as cool and damp, and most of the space was taken up by a large, round table.

Draven was already seated at the table, along with Leia, Shara, Bodhi, Luke, and Cassian, who exchanged a fleeting glance with her, but said nothing.

“Sergeant Erso.” Draven beckoned to the one empty seat. “So glad you could join us.”

The words _’Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,’_ floated across Jyn’s mind, but she bit down on the urge to say them.

Besides, there was a very real chance that whatever it was, she _had_ done it. And anyway, best to never appear too guilty about anything.

She sat.

Both Bodhi and Luke were practically vibrating with nerves, so if anyone looked guilty, it was those two bantha ranchers. In their previous lives, Jyn imagined they couldn’t have been guilty of anything more nefarious than accidentally not paying for a pack of chewstim, and yet, there they were.

Big damn heroes, the lot of them. 

Shara flashed her a wink and grin.

Jyn relaxed a bit.

Draven, clearly not one for pleasantries, jumped right in. “We’ve received critical intelligence from our contact on Onderon’s third moon.”

“Onderon?” Bodhi said. “In the Japrael sector?”

“Indeed,” Draven said.

Bodhi frowned. “That’s an Inner Rim territory. An Imperial stronghold.”

Draven nodded. “You know it then?”

“I…” Bodhi stared down at the table. “I delivered cargo there.”

“Ah,” was all Draven said.

“Imperial cargo.” Bodhi scratched at the surface of the table. “I made deliveries of Imperial cargo.”

Draven said nothing.

“Big damn hero,” Jyn said abruptly. 

Bodhi looked at her. “What?”

A fraction of a smile flitted across Jyn’s mouth. “Big damn hero.”

Bodhi smiled back at her. “Miracle rebel.”

Leia made an ‘aww’ sound. “You’re having a moment.”

“Y’all are so cute,” Shara added. She shot a glance at Bodhi. “Skywalker’s a big damn hero too, my guy.”

Bodhi’s eyes widened before his gaze fell right back to the table.

“Let’s have a moment where we focus, shall we?" Draven said impatiently. 

Leia had the good grace to look vaguely chastened. Shara not so much. Jyn resisted the urge to put her feet up on the table. 

“As I was saying, we’ve received critical intelligence that a large munitions plant has been operating in secret on Onderon’s third moon.” Draven tapped a button on the holoprojector in front of him, and a glittering moon - shining so brightly that Jyn had to squint - beamed up over the table. 

Shara raised an eyebrow. “That’s some ecosystem. Is the flora phosphorescent?”

“And do the trees glow?” Luke added, then recoiled when Leia jabbed him in the side. 

“No.” Draven tapped the button again and the moon thankfully vanished. “None of that is natural. The entire moon’s been developed as a pleasure resort for the Imperial elite and their ilk.”

Bodhi blew out a breath and stared down at the table again. “There are a few of those in Imperial space.”

Luke frowned. “Pleasure resort?”

“Don’t break the farmer’s brain, General,” Leia said. “We still have need of him”

“Hey.” Luke glowered at her. “My brain’s not about to break.”

Leia smiled sweetly back at him.

“I know things, okay?” Luke said hotly. “I know a lot of things. Just because I don’t know about… about pleasure resorts… doesn’t mean I don’t know things.”

“I’m sure you know lots of things,” Leia agreed.

“I’ve been to cantinas,” Luke said sourly. “And other places. Terrible places.”

Leia waited.

Luke sat back and folded his arms. “Total wretched hives of scum and villainy, all right?”

Leia nodded. “All right.” A beat, then, “So at these total wretched hives of scum and villainy… did you order blue milk?”

“No,” Luke said immediately. He scowled. “There wasn’t time to drink anything.”

“They call it ‘Kapa Kala’,” Draven said loudly. “Or ‘Silver Platter.’”

“What, the moon?” Luke asked.

“No, the blue milk.” Draven rolled his eyes. “Yes, the moon.”

“So,” Cassian finally said, “our mission is to find this munitions plant and destroy it?”

“No.” Draven shook his head. “The operators of the plant aren’t Imperials themselves. They might be selling weapons to Imperials or they might simply be selling them to the highest bidder.” He jabbed his finger against the table. “And we want to become the highest bidder.”

“And if they say no?” Cassian pressed.

Draven shrugged. “Then destroy the plant.”

He didn’t add ‘and the plant operators,’ but Jyn took that to be a given. And Cassian seemed satisfied enough with that answer.

“But the Alliance is dealing with a critical weapons shortage,” Draven continued. “So destroying the plant should be the option of last resort. And that’s where Pretty Pony Princess comes in.”

Everyone, save Draven, immediately shifted their attention to Leia.

Leia raised both eyebrows. “What?”

Shara snorted. “Pretty Pony Princess?”

“Pretty Pony Princess,” Draven repeated.

“Pretty Pony Princess?” Leia echoed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Draven said. “Pretty Pony Princess.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “Is that your new call sign?”

Bodhi frowned. “I don’t think she has even an old call sign.”

“I don’t have a call sign,” Leia snapped. “And if I did, it wouldn’t be-”

“Pretty Pony Princess,” Draven said.

“Damn right,” Leia agreed.

“-is the name of our contact,” Draven continued, as if he hadn’t heard her at all. 

Leia blinked. “Our contact’s name is Pretty Pony Princess?” 

“Yes.” Draven scowled. “That’s our contact’s name.”

“That’s really our contact’s name?” Leia said.

“That’s really our contact’s name,” Draven confirmed.

“Really?” Shara raised an eyebrow. 

“Really,” Draven said.

“Wow,” Shara said.

“Right?” Leia added.

Shara raised both eyebrows. “And you trust this being? This Pretty Pony Princess?”

Draven made as if to pinch the bridge of his nose. “She’s been a reliable source of intelligence for some time. Your mission is to meet up with her, ascertain the location of this munitions plant, and then either convince them it’s in their best interest to do business with the Alliance-”

“Or blow them all to hell,” Cassian finished.

Jyn looked at him.

He shrugged back at her.

Draven continued. “As for the reason I’ve requested the six of you specifically…”

Jyn waited for it.

“Our local intelligence officer suggested the six of you would be most convincing as three newlywed couples.” Draven smiled thinly. “Kapa Kala is, after all, a pleasure resort, and honeymoons are an ubiquitous business.”

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “Your local intelligence offer?”

“Dameron,” Cassian muttered under his breath. “I’ll kill you.”

\---

Fifteen standard minutes later, the six of them had crowded into Jyn, Shara, and Leia’s sleeping quarters.

“No one is going to buy this,” Cassian said hotly. “The six of us, married.”

Shara rolled her eyes. “Not all six of us.”

Leia sat back on her cot and crossed one leg over the other. “Besides, Kes Dameron apparently thinks someone is going to buy this.”

Cassian glowered at her. “Kes Dameron and I are going to have _words_.”

“This is the easy part,” Shara said. “Posing as three newlywed couples.”

“We barely function as competent singles,” Cassian shot back.

Jyn raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“I think you’re being a bit too hard on yourself, Cassian Andor.” Shara gazed up at him with a smile full of sunshine. “You’re becoming more competent by the day. You even shared your bread.”

Cassian glared at her.

“It was very good bread,” Luke said thoughtfully.

Shara looked delighted. “Oh, have you been sharing your bread with _everyone_? I had no idea.”

Cassian opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Bodhi cut in with:

“I think it could be fun. Pretending to be married. Spending time at a pleasure resort.” He shrugged. “Kind of like those old cloak n’ blaster holovids I used to watch as a kid.”

Cassian scowled. “It’s a very serious mission.”

“Sure.” Bodhi shrugged again. “Everything we do is serious, but we can still have fun with it.”

Luke pushed off Shara’s cot and onto his feet suddenly. “Great, so we need to be three newlywed couples. How about me and Leia-”

“Ew,” Leia said immediately.

“Ew?” Luke turned and looked at her. “Why ew?”

“Just… I don’t know.” Leia shook her head. “Ew.”

Luke frowned.

“Leia’s my wife,” Shara said with a grin. “Obviously.”

“Okay,” Luke said slowly. “Then how about Jyn-”

“And me,” Cassian finished. “We’ll be married.”

Jyn looked hard at the far wall, despite both Leia and Shara’s obvious attempts to catch her eyes.

“That leaves me and you,” Bodhi said quietly to Luke. “If you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Luke grinned. “Like you said, fun.”

“Fun, fun,” Jyn murmured.

Let the fun begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE THE FIRST  
> Yaaaaay, an update! And a mission! And a fake marriage plot! And they finally get off rainy, cold Bakura! What could possibly go wrong?
> 
> NOTE THE SECOND  
> As always, hit me with your best feedback.


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